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The phone buzzes again a second later.
Cade.
“Z,” she calls out, turning around but not stopping her stride. As she twirls back around, she reaches out for me to take her hand. Hers slips into mine and my phone slips in my back pocket. Let us at least get settled. There’s nothing to report just yet.
“How are you?” I check with her as she squeezes my hand.
“Excited,” she confesses with a beautiful smile, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “You?”
“I’m happy you’re happy.”
There’s a photo op at the front entrance and Ella poses without me, then pulls me in behind her for a shot. A photographer calls out, “Who’s the gentleman?” She ignores the question, choosing to wink at him instead.
“Cheeky girl,” I tease when she takes my hand again. She’s delighted, mischievous and it’s a thrilling sight.
As soon as we’ve relinquished our coats at the door check, a clutch of women I don’t recognize descend on Ella, greeting her with shrieks and hugs and so much touching that I angle myself closer to her to give her some breathing room. Her face is lit up with exhilaration, color in her cheeks and a glint in her eyes.
She glances at me. I put my hand on the small of her back and lean down to speak into her ear. “If this is too much, give the signal.” Three fingers directly over her lips, the tip of her middle finger resting on the tip of her nose, means I’ll immediately intervene.
“I know,” she whispers and takes a step ahead of me. I stay back, letting her readjust to something that I’m sure has been familiar all her life. It’s almost as if she’s the client once again. I’m here to protect her, to shield her. I’m here to offer her comfort if she needs it.
And judging by the sweet laugh that she utters from her lips, she doesn’t need me. Not in this moment.
As she looks up at me from under her lashes, my phone buzzes again.
There are more people than I expected. I try to refocus to keep an eye on all of them in relation to Ella.
Another message. I glance down at my phone and see both Cade and Damon are checking in. There’s no emergency, nothing to cause alarm.
I text them back, everything going as planned.
A light touch on my arm draws my attention. It’s Ella, her dark eyes searching my face. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” Something’s off.
“Of course.” My answer is irrelevant. Ella’s attention is quickly drawn away.
“Ella!”
Trish pushes her way through the crowd to get to Ella’s side and wraps her up in a giddy hug. “People are waiting for you. Come on, let’s go.”
“Who’s here?” Ella asks.
“Old friends, new friends … and everyone worth showing off the new you to.”
Trish leads Ella up a flight of stairs and toward the back of the house. I stay a few steps behind but I don’t miss how Ella checks on me. Each time she peeks over her shoulder I offer her a calm smile.
“You good?” she mouths at me. As if she’s the one who should be worried and not the other way around.
I eye her in a way she should recognize and then tap her ass to keep it moving. Her shy smile and the way she bites her lip are everything. They go out through a set of open double doors. It doesn’t make sense that the doors are open—it’s too late in the year—until I step out after them.
It’s a massive heated porch. On the other side is a long bar.
The partying on this level is far more intense. Trish and Ella join up with a crowd near the bar.
Someone hands her a drink. Someone I don’t recognize but Ella obviously does.
“Cheers,” the woman yells over the loud din from everyone one else out here, and Ella drinks from her glass. It’s only a sip at first, but it doesn’t take long for more people and more sips until it’s drained along with the rest of them.
“Zander,” calls Trish over her shoulder, and I step forward so she can introduce me to their friends. I don’t hear any of the names she says while I shake hand after hand, looking into one glazed-over pair of eyes and then another.
They’re wasted. Every person here is drinking heavily and as I’m politely shaking hands. Ella accepts another drink. Red flags. This is a sea of red flags.
Ella
This party feels like a funhouse and I’m in the middle, distorted by all the mirrors, too hot and drunk and a mess.
“Like I said, whatever you tell them, I’ll agree with.”
It didn’t quite hit me at first when he said that in the car, or maybe it did and I just played it off. But the more time passes, the more upset I get. A drink down and he’s not beside me. He’s staying back and it feels like I’m here alone.
